‘Good night,’ he said, turned on his heel and walked off to the stables to think.

SUNDAY, 18TH JUNE, NIGHT

Carey saw his sister up the stairs to the Warden’s bedchamber, and she leant on his arm smiling and chattering so happily that he knew how hard it had been for her. Goodwife Biltock was pulling a warming pan out of the great bed.

‘God’s sake, this weather, June, who could believe it...’ she was muttering as she turned and saw him. ‘Oh now,’ she flustered, dropping a curtsey, ‘well, Robin, what a sight...’

Carey crossed the floor in three strides and picked her up to give her a smacking kiss on the cheek. She cuffed his ear.

‘Put me down, bad child, put me...’

Carey put her down and handed her his handkerchief, while Philadelphia smiled and brought her to the stool by the fire until she could collect herself.

Carey was pouring her wine from the flagon on the plate chest, since women’s tears had always had him come out in a sweat. He brought it to her and squatted down beside her.

‘So it’s true Scrope offered you the deputyship,’ she said at last. ‘I never thought...’

‘...I could drag myself away from London?’ Carey made a wry face. ‘Nothing easier when I could feast my eyes on you Goodwife...’

‘Pfff, get away, Robin, your tongue’s been worn too smooth at Court. Well you’re a sight for sore eyes and no mistake and I see you can find a clean handkerchief now which is more than I could say for you once. Will you stay do you think?’

Carey coughed. ‘I don’t know, Goodwife, it depends.’

‘You take care for that Lowther fellow...’

‘Nurse...’ warned Philadelphia.

‘I speak as I find, I’m sure. Where are you lying, Robin, is it warm and dry?’

‘Nowhere better in the castle, it’s in the Queen Mary Tower.’

‘Hah, warm and dry, I doubt. They use the place as a store-room...’

‘Do they?’ said Carey, straightfaced.

‘Oh they do, flour mostly, and I’ll be struck dumb with amazement if the lummocks even thought to air the place, let alone light a fire, I’ll go and...’

‘No need, Nurse,’ said Carey, ‘I’ve a man in there already, and my own body servant will be seeing after making it comfortable, you’re not to trouble yourself.’

‘Well, have you eaten?’

‘I had a bit with the men in the...’

‘Oh in the Lord’s name, old bread and last year’s cheese, and the beer brewed by idiots, I’ll go and fetch something out of my lord’s kitchen, you stay there, Robin, and dry your hose...’

‘Would you have it sent up to my chamber, Nurse. I’ll be going to bed soon.’

Goodwife Biltock opened her mouth to argue, then smiled. ‘There’ll be enough for your servants too,’ she said. ‘Be sure you eat your share, I know you. Good night, Robin.’ She reached over and ruffled his hair, heaved herself up and bustled out, rump swinging beneath a let out gown of Philadelphia’s. She looked very fine in green velvet, though worn and of an old style. But then the Goodwife had always liked to look well, even when she was nursing Carey babies.

‘Didn’t you tell her?’ Carey asked as he took her place on the stool.

‘No one was sure you were coming until your messenger arrived this morning while we were all in church. I made Scrope send Carleton out. And I didn’t want to disappoint her in case the Queen called you back before you got here.’

Philadelphia brought up the other stool and settled down facing him.

‘Be very careful of Lowther, Robin, he’s the reason...’

‘...why I’m here. So I gathered.’

‘I wish you had fought him, right there and then,’ whispered Philadelphia, screwing up her fists on her apron and causing it to crumple.

‘Philly...’ Carey saw she meant it and changed what he had to say. ‘It might have been a little messy. Have you ever seen a real sword fight?’

‘No, but I’ve nursed enough sword cuts. I’d nurse Lowther too, I would, nurse him good and proper.’

Carey looked away from her vehemence. ‘What was it you couldn’t tell me in your letter?’

‘Only that he has this March closed up tight in his fist. He has most of the lucrative offices and he takes the tenths of recovered cattle, not the Warden.’

Carey’s lips moved in a soundless whistle.

‘What’s left? Just the thirds from fines.’

‘What there are of them, we’ve had no justice out of Liddesdale for fourteen years. Sir John Carmichael...’

‘He’s still the Scots West March Warden?’

‘For the moment, but the rumours are he wants to resign.’

‘Wise man.’

‘He’s well enough, he’s an honest decent gentleman, too good for this country. Did you ever meet him?’

‘I think I did. Last time I was at King James’s Court he was there, I remember.’

‘He does his best, but the Maxwells and the Johnstones ignore him and the Armstrongs and Grahams...’

‘Who will bind the wind?’

‘Exactly. Old Lord Scrope held it together because towards the end he simply did what Lowther told him and let the rest go hang and Lowther kept the peace as far as it suited him.’

‘Not far?’

‘Well, it’s remarkable how often people who offend him get raided and their houses burned.’

‘Who by?’

‘Grahams or Elliots mostly, but Nixons and Crosers too.’